In 6th Grade Math Class, I (am very weird, mind you) leaned over the side of the chair and put my hands underneath my feet. I stood up, feet on hands, and attempted to balance. Attempted. I started to get off balance, tried to use my hands to balance me or steady me, but to no avail. They were well stuck under my feet.

I made an attempt to move my feet off of my hands, but I forgot to do them one at a time, and just tried to lift them both at once. Gravity told me that was a "no no."

I, with no balance at all, body bend over and hands under feet, finally lost it all and fell straight into my neighbor's desk and knocked her book to the ground. I accomplished to hit my head and whack my desk back too.

Simply put, it was beauty and it was grace. It was sheer gliding hovering tip-toe-ing beauty. The teacher, born with no simpathy, laughed at me and continued on with the class.

I wasn't terribley embarresed, considering that I am the butt of every joke that's ever been made by a teacher in class. They all take a great liking to hating me.

"Hammer and tongs! I am so torn between rage and joy, that if I do not burst, it will be a marvel!"